


I'll Be Your Savior

by Cock_Zero



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Ending - Good, Blood and Gore, Homophobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cock_Zero/pseuds/Cock_Zero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's father likes to save people. Not just any people but homosexuals. He believes they need to be saved in order to get into Heaven, and it's his job to save them. On the eve of Frank's 19th birthday, his father brings home a young man and Frank must stand and watch him be saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Savior

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, fair warning, this story is pretty graphic in the violent department. It's also an alternate ending fic, so there will be another one starting the same way but ending completely differently. As stated, this is the 'good' ending, but it's up to you to decide which ending is the true ending.

Frank hummed to himself, lounging back on his bed. His dad had been out for a few hours, ‘finding someone to save’. Frank knew what he meant. Another homosexual that his dad believed needed saving so they could get into Heaven. Frank didn’t think they needed saving. They weren’t hurting anyone. 

But he’d never tell his dad that or he’d be the next one getting ‘saved’.

He heard the car pulling up, the rattling of the engine echoing through the house and surrounding woods. Then the outside cellar door banged open and his dad called him downstairs. He heaved out a sigh, rolling off the bed and shuffling his way down to the basement.

He saw the boy before he looked around for his dad. He was pale and a little heavy set with long black hair. His dad had tied him up, as usual, arms pulled back and cuffed behind the thick support beam in the center of the room. His legs were stretched out in front of him, the knees torn out of his jeans. Frank noticed his jaw was red and starting to swell as he moved closer. He stopped a few feet away, staying behind his dad who held a plastic bucket of ‘purified water’.

It wasn’t really purified, but his dad said a prayer to bless the salt mixed in. Said it was ‘Holy Water’ since the church refused to give him any.

He dumped the water over the boy, waking him instantly. He squeaked, squirming and looking around the room with terrified eyes.

Frank felt sorry for him, he really did, but he kept his face apathetic, watching him with almost bored eyes. He’d watched his dad save countless ‘impure souls’ since he was a young child. He knew the whole routine by heart, and he hated it.

“Wh-who are you?!” the boy, or rather man since he was clearly older than Frank’s own age of eighteen, asked. “What d-do you want?! Please let me go!” he cried.

Frank Sr. grinned, wide and wicked, and cracked his knuckles. “You need to be saved, young man. Repent from your wicked, sinful ways and your soul may be allowed into the Kingdom of Heaven,” he recited. It was the same opening speech as always; the only thing that ever changed was the gender depending on the sinner.

Frank watched the young man gape at him, eyes wide and mouth open. He screamed when the first blow came, his head jerking violently to the right.

He started to cry. “Please, let me go! I-I won’t tell anyone! I p-promise!” he begged. “Not a soul!” He continued to plead; every promise was countered with a heavy blow. His lip split open, bleeding heavily as he yelped.

Frank could see his dad’s knuckles were bruised lightly. He knew the tactics were about to change. 

A swift kick with his steel toed boot and the guy started coughing, spitting blood to the concrete floor. He started pleading again, crying out when the boot connected with his face.

Frank wanted to leave, he never wanted to watch this, but he knew he would get worse if he did. He tried to keep his eyes off the man’s face, off his begging, pleading eyes. He stood there like a statue, just watching.

There was a sickening crack and the guy wailed, coughing and spluttering as his nose bled. Frank could clearly see it was broken, the bones shifting over to one side. Blood coated his face and shirt as he cried softly.

He watched the beating go on for another forty minutes. The man’s crying grew weaker, only a few broken sobs escaping his throat.

Frank Sr. grabbed another bucket of Holy Water, soaking the man again as he screeched, salt stinging his open wounds. “Repent for your sins and you shall be saved,” he said again. He placed the bucket back under the work bench, leading Frank back upstairs.

Frank could hear the man sobbing quietly as the light was switched off, leaving him in the dark. The thin door closed behind him and his dad secured the padlock in place. 

He walked to his bedroom, shutting the door and laying on his bed again. He heard the fridge open through the thin walls, the clinking of beer bottles followed by the groaning of the couch springs and the TV being turned on. The opening music for the ten o’clock news barely drowned out the sound of the man crying downstairs.

He curled up under his covers, pressing his pillow tight around his head. He hated hearing the screams, the cries, the wails of the ones being saved.

He’d heard it since he was four. The first few times were the most terrifying. He didn’t know why they were crying. His dad was saving them from Hell, they should have been grateful, but he learned quickly that he was wrong. And his dad was wrong for doing this.

The sobs grew faint throughout the night. Frank only slept for an hour. He could never sleep when his dad was saving someone. He’d try to take a nap during the day, when his dad was out of the house.

Frank crawled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom just as the sun started to rise. He pissed, washed his hands and face and frowned at the bags under his eyes. He made his way down the hall and into the kitchen, the clock telling him it was just after six am. He needed to get breakfast started.

~

”Do you wish to confess your sins?” Frank Sr. asked, a malicious smile on his face as the boy sobbed as his feet.

“I-I don’t know what my-y sins are!” he cried. “Wh-what have I d-done to you?!”

A heavy kick to his gut cause him to gasp and wheeze, crying out when another came straight after. Frank winced, flexing his hands. The boy whined, pulling his knees up to his chest to protect himself.

Frank Sr. walked around him, stopping behind the beam.

Frank watched as his dad raised his foot, slamming it down on the boy’s hand. He screeched and tried to pull away from the beam.

His dad walked back around and punched him in the face. His nose started to bleed anew, soaking his face and shirt. The boy coughed, spitting blood to the ground.

“P-please,” he begged, eyes locking onto Frank’s. “P-please stop-AH!” he screamed, Frank’s dad’s boot connecting with the right side of his face.

Frank could see the bones had shifted under the skin, just like with his nose. The cut above his eyebrow split wider and flowed heavily. The smell in the room was becoming more and more pungent; Frank could almost taste the iron from the guy’s blood.

Another bucket of Holy Water was dumped over his head, washing the blood from his face and clothes. It covered him again quickly afterwards. The red water flowed down towards the drain a few feet to the guy’s right. Frank focused on the swirling, the deep red fading to pink as it vanished down the hole. He kept his eyes off the guy, off his pleading stare.

His dad touched his shoulder and Frank jumped before following him upstairs.

“Please! Don’t le-leave me!” the boy cried out, coughing and hacking suddenly and Frank fought every instinct to look back at him.

The door closed behind him, the lock clicking in place, and Frank went to the bathroom. He locked the door and leaned against it for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing slowly.

 _You can do this,_ he told himself. _It’s just like all the other times. Breathe in, breathe out. It’ll be over in five days, then you can sleep again._ He let out a deep breathe, opening his eyes. _Until the next one._

Frank walked over to the tub, turning the taps until the water was just hot enough for him and flipping the lever. The shower came to life and Frank pulled the curtain halfway, stripping and stepping in before closing it fully.

~

The next day came too quickly for Frank. He slept two hours that night, being woken up three times by the man crying downstairs. It made him sick to his stomach.

He had to listen to the man sobbing all morning, only until he fell silent around noon. Frank figured he must have passed out from either hunger or pain or maybe a combination of both.

His father called him out of his room around nine in the evening and he trudged down to the basement. Another hour of watching his dad beat a homosexual dragged by.

First came the Holy Water, as always, then his father asking the boy if he wished to confess his sins and be saved.

“Why are you doing this?!” he shrieked, eyes wide and scared.

“You need to be saved so you can ascend into the Kingdom of Heaven,” Frank Sr. replied easily and the boy shuddered.

Frank stood back and watched as the blow came, making the boy cry out and cough violently. Frank carefully glanced at his face, trying to make sure he wasn’t caught staring. The whole right side was swollen and he slurred whenever he spoke.

His jaw was fractured. Frank could see the pain radiating in his eyes and throughout his whole body.

A loud crack caught Frank’s attention and his head jerked up as the boy yelled, and ear piercing shriek leaving his mouth. Frank saw his dad’s foot crushing down on the boy’s shin, his leg twitching as he tried to pull it back to safety.

Frank Sr. stomped on the boy’s leg again and again and again. Frank lost count of how many times he slammed his foot down.

The boy soon fell quiet and lost consciousness, his head lolling and chin resting on his chest. A bucket of Holy Water is poured over him, washing the blood away and down the drain again. He didn’t flinch.

Frank turned, moving towards the stairs when his dad grabbed his shoulder, halting him instantly.

“Tomorrow is a big day for you, son,” he smiled. “Tomorrow you get to start saving, starting with this soul.” The grin he gave Frank was like a parent seeing their child graduate. 

It made bile rise up in Frank’s throat. 

He blinked, frozen in spot and watching his father head up the stairs before him. _No, he can’t mean…_ Frank’s thoughts trailed off and he glanced over to the unconscious boy. Blood dripped off his chin and stained his already ruined shirt. _Shit. Tomorrow’s my nineteen birthday. Tomorrow is the Cross day._

“Fuck.”

Frank hurried up to his room and sat on his bed, listening out for his dad to go to bed. He heard the bedroom door slam shut and the bed springs groaning before his father started snoring. He waited another twenty minutes just to be safe.

Cracking open his bedroom door, he crept out into the hall and to the front door. He thanked whatever God there was that they always kept it unlocked. Living out in the woods gives you a sense of security.

He grabbed the car keys and slipped outside, quietly making his way around the house and over to the car. It was still parked just outside the cellar doors.

Frank opened the driver’s side door and placed the keys in the ignition before slowly opening both of the heavy wooden cellar doors. He was careful to not let them bang as he set them down. He snuck down into the basement and over to the work bench. Grabbing a small strip of wood and the handcuff keys, he took them over to the boy and knelt down.

“Hey, wake up,” he whispered, touching the boy’s neck. He felt a strong pulse and gave him a gentle shake.

The boy yelped softly and looked around, bleary eyed and confused. “W-wha-“

“Shh,” Frank warned, placing his hand over the boy’s mouth. “I’m getting you out of here.”

The boy’s eyes widened and his body shook.

“I’m gonna need your help though. Do you think you can stand?” Frank asked and the guy whined softly, flexing his mostly uninjured leg. 

“M-maybe?” he cringed.

Frank nodded and moved around the beam, unlocking the cuffs and carefully setting them on the ground.

“’ow do I k-know dis isn’t a t-t-trick?” the boy asked. He whined when he pulled his arms to his chest, gingerly rubbing his broken hand.

Frank paused, remaining crouched behind the beam. “You don’t,” he said softly, “but I need you to trust me.” He crawled around to the guy’s side, holding the piece of wood tight in his hand. “My dad is asleep right now, so we have to be extra quiet. Put this in your mouth and bite down if the pain gets to be too much.” He held out the strip of wood and the boy looked at it, confusion and fear painted on his face. “It’s not poisoned or anything,” Frank whispered. “See?” He placed it in his mouth, biting on it for a few seconds before taking it out. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

He placed the strip of wood in the guy’s mouth and stood, holding his arms down. Carefully and slowly, Frank lifted him off the ground. He was heavy, practically dead weight with his broken leg and hand being completely useless in lifting himself.

The man cried out, the sound muffled by the wood, as he tensed his broken leg.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got ya,” Frank cooed. He slung the guy’s good arm over his shoulder, Frank’s hand gripping his waist tight, and they hobbled over to the small set of steps. “Just a few steps and then we’ll be in the car,” he whispered, squeezing the man’s waist. Frank could taste the scent of blood filling his nose. It stuck in the back of his throat, threatening to make him vomit. The boy was covered in so much blood, it was a miracle he could even stand this long.

The man whined, his face contorted with pain as they ascended the steps. The dried blood under his jaw flaked and fell to the cement steps. They made it to the car much slower than Frank would have liked.

Frank cursed when he saw the shut passenger door. “Fuck,” he hissed. He slowly reached out, keeping the guy standing as best he could, and opened the door.

Getting him into the car was much more difficult than he previously thought. The guy cried out at every little movement his broken leg made, the sound only slightly lessened by the strip of wood. Frank managed to get him in and the seat pushed and lied back as far as possible before softly shutting the door. He gave it a small tug to make certain it was closed and hurried around to the driver’s side.

He was counting himself lucky that his dad was still out, but he knew the second he started the car, that would change.

Frank secured the boy’s seatbelt, apologising profusely when he cried out and tears slipped down his round cheeks. His eyes were clenched shut, the stick still between his teeth as he bit down hard. Frank frowned, the whole right side of the boy’s face was swollen and unrecognisable, black and purple bruises littered his pale skin and the numerous cuts were deep red, some crusting over with dried blood.

He leaned away, clicking his own seatbelt closed and started the car, quickly shifting into drive and taking off down the long winding driveway. A look in the rear-view mirror showed him the front door still closed before he took the first turn.

“Where we goin’?” the boy asked, squinting up at Frank. His good hand was gripping the seatbelt tight, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“The hospital,” Frank replied. “I- when we get there, tell them I found you. Please,” he begged. “I’ll deal with my dad myself. I won’t let him hurt anyone else. He can’t keep doing this.”

The boy whined softly, gasping when the car dipped into a small pothole.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Frank said. He kept his hands on the steering wheel, slowing and turning onto the main road before speeding down the street. The hospital was over an hour away but it was late, well after midnight, and the roads would be mostly clear.

Frank pulled up at the emergency door, leaving the car in park as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he said to the boy who merely nodded slowly. He rushed inside, grabbing the first nurse he saw by the arm. “I need your help!” he said frantically. “I-I was out driving and this guy, I found this guy on the side of the street. He was all beat up and he needs help. Please, he’s in my car!”

The nurse nodded and motioned to another man. “Get a gurney!” he shouted and the other ran off. Frank lead the first nurse outside, along with two others who followed, and over to his car. 

The guy had his eyes shut again and Frank opened the car door, quickly removing his seatbelt. “You’re gonna be okay,” he whispered, getting a groan in return.

Frank moved away and two of the nurses started manoeuvring the boy from the car, setting him on the gurney as he cried out in pain.

“Sir, you’re going to be okay,” the female nurse said as the first nurse turned to Frank.

“I’ll-I’m gonna park my car. I can see him later?” Frank asked, worrying his bottom lip. 

“Yes, of course,” the nurse said. “Do you know his name? Anything about him?”

Frank shook his head.

“Okay, we’ll ask him after we check him out. You can wait in the waiting room,” he said and Frank nodded, watching him turn and rush back into the hospital.

Frank let out a breath. He shut the passenger door and crawled back in behind the steering wheel. He found a parking spot about halfway down the lot and turned off the car. He sat and breathed for a few moments, telling himself the boy was going to be okay. He was going to live and his family would find him and Frank…

Frank would never see him again. He knew that when he got home, his dad would be waiting and all the boy’s saving would be for naught. And Frank himself would be the next to be saved. No one would come to his rescue either.

He would die at the hands of his own father. He laughed softly. Such a fitting end for him.

He finally got out of the car, locking the doors and heading back up to the hospital. The emergency was loud, louder than he remembered it being a few moments before. Babies wailed in their parent’s arms, teens and young adults were vomiting into buckets or passed out over the seats, one lady was bleeding from a cut over her forehead. It wasn’t bad, but the deep red of cloth she held to it made it appear worse.

They would all survive with no problems. The boy though. He would have trouble. He would fear everyone who came near him. He would have to go through years of therapy, both physical and mental.

Frank sat away from everyone, in a corner close to the emergency room doors. He drew his knees up to his chest and held them, resting his chin atop them as he waited. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the linoleum floor, the harsh fluorescent light making it brighter and the stains more visible. He jumped when a hand came into contact with his shoulder and he looked up.

“Are you alright, dear?” the older woman asked.

Frank blinked, taking in her features. She looked around fifty, her scrubs a soft pink and her face friendly. “I-“

“You’re covered in blood. Are you injured?” she asked, removing her hand from his shoulder.

Frank looked down, seeing the stains coating his shirt and jeans. The boy’s blood. “N-no, it’s-the man they brought in, it’s his. I-I found him. Helped h-him to my car,” he said and she nodded.

“Alright, dear. You’re waiting for news about him?”

“Y-yes,” he said softly.

She nodded again and touched his shoulder before walking away, over to the bleeding woman. Frank watched her a few more seconds before looking back down to the floor.

He lost track of time sitting there, just listening to the noise around him turning into white noise. A dull hum echoing in his head. He felt numb and hungry, but mostly numb. He wanted to know how the boy was, if he was going to live. He couldn’t die. If he did then everything Frank went through and will go through when he got home would be for nothing. He figured he could run away, never return to his house, but his dad would probably find him. He didn’t know anything about the town. It was pure luck that he remembered where the hospital was.

“Sir,” a voice called and Frank blinked slowly. “Sir?” the voice asked again and a hand touched Frank’s shoulder once again.

Frank hummed and looked up, seeing a male doctor staring at him.

“You’re the one who brought the injured young man in?” he asked and Frank nodded dumbly before something in his brain clicked.

“I-is he okay? Can I see him?” he asked, jumping to his feet.

“He’s fine. He’s still in surgery right now and you can see him later,” the doctor replied. He looked down to a clipboard and Frank’s stomach bottomed out. “He has several broken bones and some minor internal bleeding that we already managed to fix. He’s gonna need some minor facial reconstruction seeing as his right eye socket and the right half of his jaw is broken as well as his nose in several places. It’s lucky you found him when you did,” he said and Frank nodded. “He should be out of surgery in a few hours, but you should get some food. The cafeteria is still open.”

“I-I don’t have any money,” Frank mumbled, glaring at his shoes.

He saw the doctor shifting then a hand came into his view and he looked up. “Here, take this and get yourself something to eat. It might be a while before you can see him,” the doctor said. 

Frank held his hand out and he placed a ten dollar bill in his hand. “I-I can’t take this,” Frank frowned.

The doctor shook his head, folding Frank’s fingers over the note. “Take it, it’s my treat,” he said. “The cafeteria is through that hall, there are signs on the walls showing the way,” he smiled, pointing down the corridor.

“Thank you,” Frank whispered, smiling softly. The doctor headed back through the emergency doors and Frank stood there for a moment before walking down the corridor.

~

Frank stood outside the boy’s room with the doctor. It was in the early afternoon; Frank had slept for a few hours on one of the hard chairs, waking at the slightest noise, fearing it was his dad coming to find them. 

He had been spoken to by two police officers, telling them he didn’t know the boy’s name and he found him while he was driving around, trying to clear his head. He told them he had gotten into an argument with his dad and stormed out when he saw the boy on the side of the street, near unconscious. They had nodded, writing down the information and saying it collaborated with what the boy had said.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet as the doctor read out the list of injuries. “Broken left hand and wrist, four fractured ribs, two more ribs bruised, broken eye socket, nose and fractured jaw. His right leg was broken in several places. His collarbone has three hairline fractures. The internal bleeding was quickly fixed and will leave no lasting damage.” Frank nodded with no feeling; it was just a motion to him. “He’s on a lot of pain meds at the moment but he’s conscious. We managed to get his name and I’m going to locate his family.”

Frank tensed, blinking up at the doctor. “H-his name?” he asked. His hands were shaking. He never knew the names of anyone his dad brought home. This would make them connected, even if it’s in some small insignificant way.

“Yes, it’s Gerard Way,” the doctor replied and Frank’s eyes widened.

 _Gerard Way. Gerard Way. Gerard Way,_ he chanted in his head, imprinting the name to his memory. If he did die, which he knew he would once he got home, he would die knowing he saved Gerard Way. “Can I see him?” he asked; his voice small and weak.

The doctor nodded and motioned towards the closed door. Frank stood in front of it as the man walked away. He held his breath and opened the door, creeping inside.

The room was dimly lit and the machines beeping seemed louder than it should. It told Frank the boy, Gerard Way, was alive.

He walked over to the bed slowly. The boy watched his movement, his eyes heavy from the drugs in his system. “H-hi,” Frank said softly. He reached forward slowly, touching Gerard’s fingertip before the boy jerked his hand away. His heart rate increased and Frank backed away. “S-sorry,” he mumbled. He looked around and grabbed a chair, pulling it over towards the bed. “Is this okay?”

Gerard grunted softly but didn’t flinch away.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Frank started, sitting in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. “I-I never help my dad when he’s saving people. I never wanted to. It makes me nauseous just thinking about hurting someone,” he said and Gerard scoffed, grimacing and groaning after. “It’s true,” Frank said softly. “I know you won’t believe me. He never asked me to save anyone until today, my nineteenth birthday. It’s the same year he started saving and his father before him. I guess you could say it’s some sort of family tradition.” He gave a hollow laugh, glaring at his knees. “A sick fucking tradition that I never wanted to take part in.”

Frank paused, glancing up at Gerard briefly before looking back at his knees. “He tried to save me before, too,” he said softly. “When I was eight, he caught me staring at this catalogue. It was on the page with the male underwear models,” he frowned, pausing again.

Gerard made a soft sound and Frank looked up. 

“He took me down to the basement and hit me. I apologised, saying I didn’t know what I did wrong and ended up with a black eye and a split lip before he stopped. It happened again when I was fourteen. He caught me jacking off to a picture of some male band member.” He turned his eyes downward again, biting his lip. “That time I didn’t get off so easy. I was locked downstairs for three days. No food, no water. He broke my left arm and my nose as well as fracturing a rib. He had to take me to the hospital, said I was ‘attacked’. I guess it was true, in a way.” Frank took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I told him I was confused and he said if it happened again, he would save me completely. He would kill me,” he said, looking up at the boy.

Gerard took a sharp intake of air, staring wide eyed at Frank. “Wha’ gon happen to you?” he asked, word slurred heavily.

“He’ll fulfil his promise,” Frank stated and Gerard’s eyes started to water. “He can do it too, I don’t care anymore. I just couldn’t let him hurt anyone else. You don’t deserve that. No one does.”

Gerard shook his head softly. “No, you don’ deserve dat eider,” he said softly.

“I do though,” Frank argued. “I never stopped him from killing countless people. I could have done something but I didn’t because I was scared. I still am scared,” he cried, pulling his knees up and hugging them.

They were silent for a few moments, Frank wiping his eyes with his knuckles and Gerard watching him. “Wha’ your name?” he asked quietly and Frank looked up.

“Frank. Frank Iero,” he replied and Gerard hummed, closing his eyes.

Frank started at a voice outside the door, a woman’s voice. He watched the door, waiting to see if it would open, if this was Gerard’s family.

“This one, yes. Room four fifty seven,” the voice said and the door opened, filling the room with harsh light. Frank winced, shielding his eyes until the door shut again and the skidding of shoes was heard. “Gerard! Gerard, honey, it’s mom,” the woman said and Frank glanced up. She was older, but her hair was bleach blonde, almost white near her tips. She stood next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on Gerard’s face as he cried. 

There was an older man standing behind her, a hand on the small of her back as she cooed over Gerard. A boy around Frank’s own age stood behind them, his eyes trained to Frank. 

“We were so worried Gerard, the police couldn’t find any leads or anything,” the woman said. She kissed Gerard’s forehead and Frank saw him wince softly. He saw her turn towards him, walking the short distance and crouching down. “You’re the one who found my son?” she asked softly.

Frank nodded once before being engulfed in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much! We own you so much!” she cried.

Frank was stunned. He patted her on the shoulder and she pulled away, hurrying back over to Gerard. She stood on the opposite side of the bed as her husband and younger son. Frank waited for everyone to focus on Gerard before standing slowly. “I-I need to get home,” he mumbled and moved to the door. When no one responded, he slipped out of the room.

He walked down the corridor to the elevator and down into the lobby. Exiting the hospital, he saw the sun was setting. He’d been away a while. He sighed, tears pricking at his eyes again as he walked to his dad’s car.

He drove slowly, delaying the inevitable as much as he could before finally pulling into the long and winding driveway.

His dad was waiting on the porch, arms crossed and face sour. Frank gulped, pulling up to the house. 

The door was yanked open and Frank’s hair was grabbed, his dad all but dragging him out of the car.

“Fucking faggot! I knew I should have saved you the last time!” he shouted, throwing Frank to the ground. “Get up!” A kick to the stomach followed and Frank coughed, clutching is gut. “I said get up!”

Frank struggled, pushing himself up on his knees when his hair is grabbed again and he wrenched to his feet. He whined and was pushed forward.

“Get inside!” his dad demanded. He shoved Frank into the house and over to the basement door.

 _This is it,_ Frank thought, watching the door slam open. He was pushed in, making it down a few steps before a sudden shove made him lose his balance and he fell, rolling down to the bottom. He groaned and coughed, holding is chest. It hurt to breathe. He must have broken a rib.

Another kick to the gut and Frank screamed. He was dragged over to the support beam, his hands cuffed behind it, pulling the muscles tight.

“You don’t deserve to be saved,” his dad hissed, fist making contact with Frank’s face.

He felt his nose break, the blood flooding his mouth and dripping down his chin. A half a dozen more blows and Frank can’t open his mouth would out being in agony. It felt like his jaw was hanging by a thread, just waiting for it to snap and fall off.

He watched his dad stand and bring his heavy boot down on Frank’s leg, above his knee. Frank shrieked, trying to pull his leg away as his dad slammed down on it continuously. He could hear the bone snapping over his screams but his dad didn’t stop. He moved to the other leg, stomping on his shin until the bones threatened to break the skin.

“P-please,” he begged, blood flowing from his nose and mouth. “Please, j-just end it.”

“You don’t deserve a quick saving,” his dad snapped and Frank cried. His shirt was torn from the collar, exposing his blood soaked chest. He saw his dad turn towards the fireplace, eyes widening when he noticed the brand resting in the flames and coals. He drew it from the flames, the cross on the end white hot.

“N-no, please! Don’t!” Frank cried. He kept his eyes focused on the cross as his dad moved closer. “Just kill me! Please!” he cried, clenching his eyes shut.

“You must be saved,” his dad said, pressing the iron to Frank’s chest.

Frank shrieked. He could feel the heat of the brand coursing through his whole body, the white hot pain freezing him in place. He could smell the burning of his flesh, the sickly acrid smell filling his nostrils. He continued screaming after the iron was removed, tossed away to the side and clanging on the cement.

A heavy kick to the chest, right over the burn, left him winded. He gasped, eyes bulging as he tried to catch his breath before another kick landed in the same spot.

He cried out when the boot hit his face, breaking his jaw more. He spat on the ground, seeing small bumps under the blood pool. He touched his tongue to his teeth, feeling the sharp edges from the broken ones. “P-pleath, thop,” he pleaded weakly, words slurring. He couldn’t see his dad but a pain shooting up his arm told him where he was. Frank could hear the bones snapping beneath the flesh, feel them tearing and ripping at the muscles in his forearm. “Pleath! Just end it!” he shouted and his dad came back into view.

“You’ll never get into heaven anyway. You’re a sick faggot,” he spat. He turned and walked over to the work bench and Frank closed his eyes.

Frank could hear the sound of metal being sharpened. He knew what was next.

Death.

He welcomed it.

He heard his father walk back over and crouch down. The first press of the blade was dull. Frank’s body was numb, his brain barely registered the cut but he knew it was shallow. The tip pressed in farther and Frank hissed. His stomach grew warm and a loud banging made them both jump.

“Drop the knife!” a voice demanded and Frank squinted. His eyes had swollen shut and everything was a blur. He saw dark blobs moving down the steps and his father still crouched in front of him. He shuddered, feeling the blade press into his flesh again.

A series of loud bangs made him scream. 

The room grew silent and a pair of hands touched his neck and face. “N-no, don’!” he whined, jerking his head away. 

It was grabbed firmly and a voice spoke to him. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” it said and Frank blinked wearily. The voice said something to someone else, the sound muffled as Frank started to lose consciousness.

The last thing he saw a figure laying on the floor before his feet.

~

Frank jerked awake, hearing a steady beeping and blinking bleary eyed at the dim lights. He couldn’t move, every muscle in his body was numb. He looked around, seeing a hospital room, similar to the one he left Gerard in.

 _Gerard?! Is he okay?!_ he fretted, eyes darting around the room. 

A nurse walked in, clipboard in hand, and hurried over to his bed. He groaned when she touched his forehead. “Are you in pain?” she asked. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Frank frowned. Why did he have to blink? Why couldn’t he just speak? He blinked twice none the less. He wasn’t in pain, he just couldn’t feel his body at all.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she said, writing on her clipboard. “The damage to your jaw was so severe, we had to wire it shut. If it heals as well as were expecting, it should be removed in only a few more days.”

Frank frowned again. _Only a few more days? How long have I been here?_

“Oh, it’s been just under five weeks now. You’ve never gained consciousness for more than a few moments and you’ve never been this coherent,” she smiled softly. “This is a great step forward for your recovery.”

He hummed and darkness closed in on him again.

When Frank awoke once more, his body was aching. He groaned and a hand found his own, stroking the back of his knuckles softly.

“Good morning,” a rough feminine voice said and Frank cracked an eye open. 

There was a woman sitting beside his bed. She had a wild mess of bleach blonde hair and a soft smile. _Gerard’s mother,_ he thought to himself.

“You’ve been out for almost two months,” she said and Frank blinked. 

_Two months?_

“How do you feel?” she asked and Frank whined, tears slipping from his eyes. “Shh, it’s okay,” she cooed, wiping the tears away.

He heard a door opening quietly and glanced over the woman’s shoulder. A young man with a soft round face and black hair hobbled into view. He was on crutches and had a gentle smile on his face. Frank could see the faint pink scars on his face but the bruises were faded, most of them completely gone, only a few light traces of yellow tinting his skin.

“I-I never got to say thank you,” Gerard said, moving closer. “I’m just so glad they found you in time.”

Frank could see tears forming in the boy’s eyes, and the woman sniffled, and he felt his eyes burn.

Gerard reached over and brushed the tears away from Frank’s eyes. “You’re safe now,” he whispered.

“And you’ll always be safe,” Gerard’s mother said and Frank’s eyes sifted over to her. “As soon as you’re healthy and the doctor releases you, you’re coming home with us.” She nodded to herself and Frank’s breath hitched.

“T-thank you,” he managed and the woman tutted. 

She smiled, stroking Frank’s hair off his forehead and kissing it. “No need to thank me, young man. Without you, I wouldn’t have my Gerard back, safe and sound.”

Frank sniffled and nodded, watching her leave the room.

“I-I told her exactly what happened,” Gerard said and Frank’s eyes widened in fear. “I told her how you saved me from your father. I told, um. I told the cops as well, gave them your name. That’s-that’s how they found you,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I couldn’t let him kill you! He would have if the cops hadn’t of made it there in time. They said you nearly bled out.”

“What?” Frank blurted out, staring at Gerard.

“If I had of seen you leave my room, I would have stopped you,” he said softly, touching Frank’s cheek. “No one deserves what either of us went through.”

Frank opened his mouth to speak but only managed to cough. Gerard waited, touching his fingertips to Frank’s hand. “Wha-what happened to-to my dad?” he finally asked, clearing his throat and accepting the water Gerard held out. He sipped it through the straw, relishing the feeling of the coolness working its way down his sore throat.

“He-when the cops got there, he had already started to cut-to,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “He had almost killed you. They shot him when he tried to finish.”

“He’s-he’s…”

“Dead,” Gerard finished and Frank cried again. Gerard pulled him into a gentle hug, running his fingers through Frank’s unkempt hair. “It’s okay. He’ll never hurt anyone again,” he whispered and Frank pressed his face into Gerard’s neck. 

He could feel Gerard’s steady and strong heartbeat against his cheek. Gerard’s warm hands stroking his hair and neck. His warm chest pressed to Frank’s own.

“Thank you,” he whispered, clenching his eyes shut and taking in Gerard’s scent.


End file.
